


First Name Basis

by AllthingsnovelyFics



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Soulmates, M/M, Soulmates
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-08-30
Updated: 2015-08-30
Packaged: 2018-04-18 00:35:38
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 882
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4685525
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AllthingsnovelyFics/pseuds/AllthingsnovelyFics
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>John finds saying "Holmes" rather difficult.</p>
            </blockquote>





	First Name Basis

**Author's Note:**

  * For [ElizaTheHobo](https://archiveofourown.org/users/ElizaTheHobo/gifts).



> I saw my good friend Eliza (sherlockwatsontm.tumblr.com) reblog a Soulmate AU post (#127893132262 on her blog) and tag it "somebody make a fic." I have always loved studying names and how names function in culture, so I was intrigued by this AU and had to write it for Sherlock and John!

Baker Street comes into view from outside the cab windows. Sherlock would have taken a shorter route had he been driving, but he had long since learned to not critique cabbies if he didn’t want to pay an exorbitant fare. There’s someone standing at the front door; even from this distance, Sherlock instantly recognizes him from Bart’s morgue. His new flatmate, or rather, potential flatmate. Nothing is set in stone yet; the man could change his mind the moment he sees 221B’s sitting room. It occurs to Sherlock that he may or may not have opened the kitchen window to vent his experiment from the previous night, but before he can worry about making a bad impression, the cab is parked and he has to find his wallet.

“Thank you, Collins,” Sherlock says through the window. He has also long since learned to be polite with Collins, no matter the efficiency of his driving. Sherlock turns on his heel to face the sidewalk and whatever the future has in store with this potential flatmate.

The invalided army doctor spots him among the other pedestrians and gives a small wave.

“Ah, Mr.–” he begins, but he suddenly frowns. His lips form “Holmes,” but his voice is cut off like a muted telly. He quickly clears his throat and tries again, but still in vain.

“It’s Holmes,” Sherlock says as he approaches. _Did he already forget from Stamford’s introduction yesterday?_ he thought, resisting the temptation to roll his eyes.

“Yeah, I know. Um, nice to see you again, Mr.–” Again, “Holmes” is inaudible.

“It’s really not a difficult name. _Holmes_. H-o-l-m-e-s.” Irritated by the repetition, Sherlock’s eyebrow twitches. _So much for worrying about being the one to make a bad impression._ He knocks on the front door.

“Right, er…” the man coughs, “I don’t…” By now, his face is beet red and is obviously frustrated. “Do… you have any nicknames, by chance?” He laughs nervously. “It’s not like I can call you Sherloc-” Surprise fills every corner of his face. “I-I’ve never been able to say someone’s first name.” He is looking at Sherlock square in the eyes now, face still red, but in a different kind of embarrassment.

At hearing his name, it finally dons on Sherlock: outside of one’s family, one can only say the first name of one’s soul mate. One can only say their soul mates last name in conjunction with their own; a couple might adopt the last name of Johnson-Smith. Despite it being common knowledge, Sherlock had never had to give the soul mate protocol much thought; dating, m6uch less finding his alleged soul mate, interfered with the work. Everyone of significance in his life – Mrs. Hudson, Lestrade, Donovan, Anderson, other officers from NSY – were just their last name in his mind; he didn’t even know their first names and had never bothered to try and say them… especially not Anderson’s.

Now Sherlock is staggering, too.

“Oh…” is all he can manage to work out. His mind flies to yesterday: _what did Stamford say his name was… it was a common name…_ He must have accidently deleted it. He had had two other people look at his flat in weeks past, but neither had even stayed to talk to Mrs. Hudson, thus he didn’t even keep a cupboard or a closet in the Mind Palace for them. Sherlock figures he has formed a bad habit.

“This is terribly embarrassing…” he says, loosening his scarf. “But… er, what’s your name again?”

“John Watson,” the man says, smiling.

Sherlock wasn’t sure if it was just a natural smile that people do when introducing themselves or if it was because he was relieved to see that Sherlock was in a state of confusion to match his own. Either way, he liked his smile. A lot.

He takes a breath.

“John.” The name fits in his mouth like his hand in a glove. It feels like coming home after a long trip, like putting on his Belstaff on a cold day. It feels right. Sherlock wants to feel it again: “John–” and, as much as he tries, he can’t say “Watson.” Feeling a bit foolish, he contents himself to saying “John” once more, grinning harder than he has in years.

“Sherlock,” John said, smile growing. “Sherlock…” he repeats, this time a whisper. He slowly reaches out a hand towards Sherlock's face and Sherlock draws near. John cups his face with the softest and strongest hands Sherlock has ever felt.

It is at that moment that Sherlock knows he wants to hear that voice say his name every day for the rest of his life. Before, he had never really believed in the soul mate protocol, but, as a scientist, it is difficult to argue with such strong data. And soul mates aside, this man… this army captain and doctor… with a tremor in his hand, a limp that was all in his mind, a drunk of a brother, and a useless therapist… intrigues him beyond measure.

By the time Mrs. Hudson finally answers the door, she is greeted by the pleasantly surprising sight of her tenant hand in hand with who she assumes is his new flatmate.

“Mrs. Hudson,” Sherlock says, a nervous smile brightening his eyes, “Meet my soul mate, John.”


End file.
